Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [86]
Keefer was seized with a fit of coughing. He bent double over the table, his shoulders shaking. The captain glanced at him in annoyance.
“Sorry, sir,” gasped Keefer, “some smoke went down the wrong way.”
“Kay,” said Queeg. “Now I want you gentlemen to remember that anything that’s worth doing at all is worth doing well-and furthermore on this ship what’s difficult we do at once, and the impossible takes a little longer, and- Now, our duty for the next few weeks seems to be target towing. Well, we’re just going to be the best goddamn target-towing ship this Navy has ever seen, and- And as I say, we’re supposed to execute our orders, not speculate about them, so let’s not worry about anything that’s happened. As far as the grounding of the ship is concerned I feel that I’m not responsible for the state of training in which I found the ship, and I’m certain that ComServPac will see eye to eye with me on that and so-that’s that. But I am damn well responsible for anything that happens on this ship from here on in. I don’t intend to make a single mistake and-I won’t tolerate anybody making any mistakes for me, and I kid you not. And, well, I think you get the idea without my drawing you a picture, and-oh, yes, I knew there was something else.” He looked about and said, “Who’s the morale officer?”
Glances of puzzlement traveled around the table. Gorton cleared his throat. “Ha-hem. Captain, an ensign named Ferguson had that as collateral duty last I knew. It seems to me it was never reassigned when he got detached-”
Queeg shook his head slowly, and rasped the balls in silence for several moments. “Kay,” he said. “Mr. Keith, as of now, you’re the morale officer, in addition to your other duties.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Your first task is to see to it that every man on this ship begins to tuck his shirttail inside his pants.”
Willie looked startled.
“I don’t want to see a flapping shirttail again while I’m captain of this ship, I don’t care what steps you take. You can be as tough as you please. I’ll back you to the limit. If we want these men to start acting like sailors we’ve got to make them start looking like sailors. Woe betide the officer during whose watch I see a sailor with a flapping shirttail-and woe betide that sailor’s department head-and woe betide the morale officer. I kid you not.
“Well, gentlemen, that concludes my business, and, as I say, let’s get excellent performance established as the standard around here, and-and has anybody got any comment to make? No? You, Gorton? You, Maryk? You, Adams? ...” In this way he went around the table, darting a forefinger at each officer. They shook their heads, one after another. “Fine. In that case I can assume that you all fully understand and enthusiastically support what I’ve said today, is that correct? And-well, that’s all I have to say, and-and remember that we are now running the best goddamn target-towing ship in the Navy, and-and let’s get on with the ship’s business.”
All the officers rose for the ceremony of the captain’s withdrawal. “Kay, kay, thank you,” he said, and hurried off into his room.
During the next two weeks, the “best goddamn target-towing ship in the Navy” carried out several towing assignments without mishap.
Queeg’s ship handling underwent a striking change after the brush with ComServPac. His dashing first manner disappeared, replaced by painful inching toward a dock or away from it. The exaggerated caution fretted the nerves of the crew, who were used to De Vriess’s spirited ease and accuracy. But there were no crashings or groundings.
Willie Keith posted a long notice in the crew’s quarters, headed: Morale-Smart Seamanlike Appearance as an Improver of. In five paragraphs of rolling prose he asked the